“What is it, Master Achilles?” Buono asked without turning around.
“I want to know if you’re tired, landsman,” Achilles said in his ear.
“Of course I am. I’ve been tired for days. Everyone’s tired.”
“Did you all hear that?” Achilles’ screaming, hot breath burned the hairs in Buono’s ear. “Landsman says you’re tired! Are you tired?”
“Heigh,” the rowers chorused. “No, Achilles!”
“Hear that? They’re not tired.”
“They lie,” Buono answered.
“Do you want a rest?” Achilles whispered.
“Is it up to me?”
“Ha! No.”
“Then I’ll not answer,” Buono grunted.
“But you do want one, don’t you landsman?”
“Achilles, when do you stop calling me that? I only want to know.”
“I like you,” Achilles said. “Really, I do.” He slapped the back of Buono’s head, cupping his huge hand to strike both sides of his skull at once. Buono pitched forward but managed to keep from smacking his forehead on the oar.
“That didn’t hurt you?” Achilles said.
“You sound concerned,” Buono replied. “But honestly, I can’t tell anymore.”
Achilles stepped out from between the rowing-benches. “Oars out! Drift! Ship oars! Rest.”
Men rushed past Buono to lower the sail. His arms and legs crunched together in stiff, trembling knots. His back and the muscles under his ribs burned and shivered.
He leaned back and looked up, taking in the huge square sheet of linen unfurling overhead. Cool wind brushed his cheek, and Buono frowned. Something was wrong.
The other rowers sprawled around Buono, chattering and laughing easily. Buono sat up straight and pounded his thighs lightly with his fists.
“What are you doing, then?” Devin asked him, laying flat on the bench.
“Just keeping my limbs from going stiff.”
“Oh, my poor boy,” Devin said. “Just let ‘em go. Achilles won’t murder you. Today. He always rests us for at least a couple hours. Might even call up some dinner.”
Buono hugged his arms together, rubbing both triceps. “A couple hours? Even if the wind blows the wrong way?”
Devin and Buono looked up together. High, straight clouds approached from the south. The sail, full with breeze from the north, began to roll and snap.
“Up! Up!” Achilles bellowed. “Oars in! Strike the sail! Before we’re taken aback–move, now!”
The wind slapped at Buono’s face and whistled in his ears. He picked up the oar and brought it to his chest. “Heigh!”
Devin groaned and pushed the oar. “I think my elbow’s gone a-missing, Buono. How did you know?”
Buono shrugged and his shoulders crackled. “Ho!” The crew pulled the sail up tight against the yard. “I’ve no earthly idea.”