…a few weeks pass…
Paolo had not posted a lookout on the mast, so a man in the bow saw it first—
“Land! Siracusa harbor ahead!”
An hour of easy rowing brought the Sant’Agata to the quay. Buono and the other rowers wheeled her slowly in place until she pointed her stern to the dock. They tied up and dropped a pair of anchors from the bow. Buono got up with the rest of the rowers and stretched out his legs. Devin passed him a skin of wine.
“You’ll like Siracusa, you will,” Devin said. “A fine town. How’s your Greek?”
“I re—” Buono caught himself. He’d almost said, ‘I read Greek better than I speak it.’
“My Greek’s all right, I suppose,” he said instead.
“Good!” Devin winked and grinned. “You can do the talking, then. I know just where to go.”
“Where are we going?” Buono asked.
Devin glanced skyward as though praying. “Where’d this one come from? A monestary? To get laid, Buono! To get laid!”
“Oh!”
“Starboard-quarter section!” Achilles called.
“Ah, good!” Devin said, “We get our shore-leave first—we’ll have our pick of the ladies before they’re all tired out. Come on!” He dragged Buono astern by his elbow.
They passed Achilles on the gangplank ramp, who put a few bronze coins into each man’s hand.
“That’s all?” Devin scoffed. “For rowing your big black arse all the way to Sicily?”
Achilles laughed from his belly. His open-hand slap to Devin’s ear knocked the grin from the Celt’s face. “The Captain wants you back in two hours. You get paid off when the voyage is over, in Venice. Now get off!” He shoved Devin down the ramp, and Buono followed.
“All right,” Devin said, counting the coins, “we’ve enough to get drunk or get laid, but not both. What’s your vote?”
“Drunk,” Buono answered without hesitation.
“Excellent choice,” Devin said. “Considering the girl you could get with this much bronze, you’d need to be drunk first anyway.”
“Hi! Wait for me!” Elihu jogged after them on the quay, holding up the skirts of his black robe in both hands. “Where are you going?”
“To the book-sellers, of course, and after that a nice hot shave and a stroll in the all-buggering gardens,” Devin said.
The sarcasm missed Elihu entirely. “Sounds fine! Excepting the shave, of course. I’m hoping to find a volume of Herodotus I’m missing.”
“Which?” Buono asked.
“The one with the ants. I used to have—”
“Pardon me, learned physician,” Devin interrupted, “but friend Buono and I have already made a solemn plan as rowing-brothers to get horribly, stinking, self-soiling—”
“He has money,” Buono whispered in Devin’s ear. “His fees, remember?”
“Heroditis! Ants! Fascinating!” Devin gushed. “To the booksellers we go! But could we stop for a bite and a swallow first? To lubricate the intellect, mind you.”
Elihu shrugged. “I suppose I could eat something. Can you find us a place that keeps kashrut, Devin? A nice quiet place?”
Devin took Elihu by the arm and led him down a grimy alley. “This is Siracusa! I can find anything, given enough coin.”
Buono glanced back over his shoulder. The dock area disappeared out of sight as he followed around Devin around corners and between buildings. In minutes he had no idea which direction he faced or how far he had walked.