Chapter 24

Arminius ordered the soldiers to move to the far end of the wharf, but he let Palta and me stay where we were, so we overheard the argument.

I looked at Palta for a translation. "She went back to see us, and we were gone," Palta said. "She asked her father where we were, but he wouldn't answer. So she was worried. Arminius was gone. Feslund and his bodyguard were gone. And then she found out that Lexulus was gone. She talked to her mother, and Gretyx told her not to worry. She hinted that big things would soon be happening, and all would change for the better. Gretyx seemed very pleased with herself."

"But how did Siglind end up here?" I asked.

"That's what Feslund wants to know." Then Palta paused to listen to more of the argument. "Siglind figured it out," she said. "She guessed that Lexulus was bringing us back to Urbis with the gant. And that Feslund and his men were going to attack Lexulus and his bodyguards before they left Gallia. But that couldn't be all. Gretyx wouldn't have been so happy if they were just freeing the two of us. Siglind decided that Feslund and her mother were planning to attack Urbis using the gant. And the only way to do this was to take the sea route from Massalia. She decided that this plan was crazy, but she had to be part of it. So she rode night and day to get here. And now that she sees that Arminius is with us, she is not so sure that the plan is crazy."

Now Feslund was gesturing angrily at Siglind and pointing off into the distance. "He is telling her to go home," Palta said. "He tells her that this is no place for a girl. Siglind tells him that she is the equal of any of these soldiers, she deserves to be part of this expedition. And so on."

And then Arminius stepped in and spoke softly, in Latin. "This is not good," he said. "Now both of the king's children are missing from Lugdunum. Carolus might have believed that Feslund was off on a hunt, but with Siglind gone as well, the king will understand what is happening. It is likely that he will send a messenger to Urbis to warn the priests. He has probably done so already. He will think that this is the only way he can save his kingdom."

"He will not do such a thing," Feslund replied. "He will know that this would mean sacrificing his children. My mother will stop him."

"My lord, he may think that he has no choice. A messenger riding hard and changing horses frequently will get to Urbis far more quickly than Lexulus with his soldiers and servants and prisoners. So we must consider what this means for us."

"Are you suggesting that we give up?" Feslund demanded. "Gallians never give up!"

"If the messenger arrives before we do," Arminius responded, "if the priests know we are coming, then we are doomed."

"Then we must go all the faster!"

Arminius shrugged. "We can only get there as fast as the winds will take us," he pointed out. Right at the moment, I noticed, there was no wind.

"Of course we must go!" Siglind added. But she looked worried.

"What will happen if we don't go?" I asked. "We've killed Lexulus and stolen back the gant. We're all doomed in that case as well. Including the king and queen."

"Yes," Arminius agreed softly. "We have gone too far to turn back."

"Then let us proceed!" Feslund said. He gestured to the soldiers. "Into the boats!" he called out.

And that seemed to settle it. We were still going to Urbis, and Siglind was coming with us.

"Aren't you worried that you're disobeying your father?" I asked Siglind.

She sighed. "My father is a great man, Larry, but he has lived his life under the thumb of the priests. That makes him cautious sometimes when he should be bold. I am sure he will forgive me when he sees the glory we achieve for Gallia."

"You are very brave," Palta said.

"A Gallian princess has no choice but to be brave. Come, let us find a place for us in the boat."

Palta hesitated, and then climbed awkwardly into the rowboat; Siglind and I followed.

"We Gallians are great mariners," Siglind said, noticing the fear on Palta's face. "The journey will be swift and safe."

"Pala has never traveled on the sea before," I said by way of explanation. I didn't think Palta was able to speak.

"Far worse dangers await us than this," Siglind replied. I agreed with that, but it wasn't much consolation to Palta. When we reached our ship, we were pulled up on board and joined the rest of the soldiers. The sailors, bearded and deeply tanned, stared openly at Palta and Siglind. Had young women never sailed on their ship before? They didn't seem to recognize that Siglind was a princess. She ignored them.

We were on the smaller ship along with Arminius, Priscus, and some of the other soldiers. Feslund and the rest were on a larger ship nearby. Both had a big square sail on a mast in the middle and a smaller sail on another mast in the front; they didn't look much like the sailboats I was familiar with.

Most of the men stayed on deck as the voyage got under way, but Palta and I climbed down a rickety set of stairs into the hold, which stank of stale olive oil. Palta found a small open spot amid our gear and lay down, closing her eyes and curling up into a ball. I put my hand on her shoulder to let her know I was there. The ship rocked gently in the sea; this didn't bother me, but it made Palta whimper softly.

After a while I could feel the ship start to move, and the rocking subsided. I thought this might make Palta feel better, but it didn't seem to. My sister Cassie got seasick easily, but Mom gave her some pill before we went on a whale watch or a ferry ride, and that kind of took care of it. But there were no pills on Terra. And of course Palta's problem went far deeper than Carrie's.

Eventually Siglind joined us. "We're under way," she said softly, squatting down next to Palta.

"How long till we get there?" I asked.

"With a favorable wind we should arrive in three days or so. It's a good time of year to sail, but one can never count on favorable winds. One can never count on anything when sailing."

Palta groaned.

"I am sorry, my friend," Siglind said. "We will do all we can to make you comfortable."

She found a blanket to put over Palta, and a thin pillow that she slid under her head. Then the two of us stayed with her, holding her until she seemed to fall asleep.

"Poor darling," Siglind whispered.

"She had a bad experience in the water once," I said.

"Then we will take good care of her."

We sat in silence for a while, and when I looked over at Siglind, I noticed that there were tears on her cheeks. "What's the matter?" I asked.

She hurriedly wiped the tears away. "Nothing, nothing," she replied. And then: "Ah, Larry, life is hard, even when you are a princess. I have longed for glory, and here it is, within my grasp, but..."

She fell silent. But I thought I understood. "Even if we take Urbis from the priests," I said, "Feslund will ignore you, and your father will be angry at you."

She didn't respond for a long time, but then she seemed to recover her usual good spirits and said, "But what if we can make Gallia the powerful nation it once was? That will be worth anything!"

"I hope we succeed," I said.

"Of course we will succeed!"

It was a long day. The soldiers came down eventually and settled themselves in the hold, where they played dice and sang songs. We had a lunch of biscuits, cheese, and weak beer; Palta ate nothing. Siglind and I had to help her get up on deck so she could throw up over the side, then clean her and half-carry her back down.

Arminius looked worried when he saw her. "Is she going to be all right?" he asked me when we got her settled once again.

"She's stronger than she looks," I replied.

"When we land, we will face a long march by night to reach Urbis," he said. "And we cannot delay to give her time to recover."

"She'll be ready."

He just shook his head. One more thing for him to worry about.

Finally night fell, and I lay awake next to Palta, still unable to sleep, listening to the creaking of the ship and the snoring of the men.

It is really happening, I thought. We are going to attack Urbis.

And it was all far worse than I had imagined it would be.

In the morning, Arminius finally gathered the soldiers together and told them the purpose of our mission. They were astonished and—some of them—terrified. "We cannot do such a thing," Priscus complained. "The gods will not allow it."

"The gods have given us this extraordinary weapon," Arminius responded. "This gant. It is a sign of their favor. We would dishonor them if we failed to use it."

"There are not enough of us," Cymbian pointed out. "We cannot take a whole city with a few dozen men."

"We just need to take one building in the city—the armamentarium. Then, with enough of these gants, we can conquer the whole world."

"We will succeed," Siglind added, "and the glory will be ours forever!"

We discussed the plan further, and none of the soldiers complained any more in public, but I think that was only because they trusted Arminius. Afterwards I saw some of them muttering to each other out of earshot of Siglind and Arminius. They weren't happy.

I wondered if Feslund was having better luck with the men on the other ship. Would he use the gant to demonstrate its power to the men who hadn't seen it in action? I recalled how dim its blue glow had seemed, the last time I had seen it. We needed that gant to still be working when we reached Urbis.

And the next day the storm arrived.

It came slowly, with the wind picking up and gray clouds covering the sky. And then the rain began, light at first and then a torrent. Lightning flashed and crackled. The wind became stronger. The sailors ordered everyone into the hold. The ship pitched up and down through the high waves; water starting leaking in. Almost everyone was seasick; the hold stank of vomit. Palta buried her face in my chest and shivered uncontrollably. Even Siglind looked frightened. "Oh, Larry, this is bad," she said over the howling of the wind.

"The gods are angry at us," Priscus muttered.

In the midst of it all, clutching Palta and more scared than I'd ever been in my life, I thought wildly: Maybe he's right.

A board gave way a little, and water started leaking into the hold. We frantically tried to jam the board back into place, but then another board gave way, and another. Some of us started bailing, passing buckets of water from hand to hand up the steps to the deck. But before long we realized this was useless—we weren't going to be able to keep ahead of the water now pouring in on all sides. "Everyone on deck!" Arminius shouted.

We scrambled up the steps. I half-dragged Palta, who could barely walk. Waves poured over the deck. The ship pitched this way and that. We wrapped our arms and legs around the railing. Lightning struck the mast at the front of the ship, which cracked and fell into the sea. I heard the captain shout an order, but no one seemed to do anything. Then the main mast cracked. "It is too late!" I heard a sailor cry.

And then the ship pitched over onto its side, and all of us were flung into the raging sea.