Ichor and Ambrosia

The merchant lord’s ship was smaller than all the others, but Myrrhine said that was because the other ships carried cargo. Baltsaros’ ship carried himself and his muse, and a small crew, but no more. As well, she said, this craft was made to sail coastlines, not to take on the open sea. Because only the richest could afford such a luxury, Acacius and Myrrhine were not surprised by the stark evidence of wealth that decorated the ship’s cabin; silver and gold drachma coins stood in stacks, sacks, and strongboxes that were scattered across tables, stuffed in cabinets, and shoved in closets. Bronze silver candlesticks leafed with gold stood tall, dripping with hot wax, shedding an amber light across the room. Too afraid to touch anything, Myrrhine and Acacius took their seats on a bench in the corner, wearing their tattered linens in a sea of wealth. They looked around anxiously, simultaneously wondering what they had gotten themselves into.

A robed servant came by in plain gray linens, holding a tray of bronze cups and a pitcher. “Refreshments?” she asked.

“No, thank you,” Myrrhine said and shook her head. Acacius thought she was too afraid to drink, lest it go to waist in the belly of a small farmer.

It took a long while for Baltsaros to return to his ship; through the portside window, Acacius could see the sun high in the clear blue sky, with the ocean below it. They heard the great man barking orders, laughing hardily, and stamping his booted feet on the wood planks as he made his way to the cabin.

An instant later, the door barreled open with a swift kick, and in-walked the great Baltsaros, the unnamed muse in his wake replaced by a scruff man in leather armor. “I don’t care what the winds say,” Baltsaros was telling the man. “You’re a mariner; you sail the seas, tread the oceans. Pray to Poseidon, for all I care. We will get to Kitriani tonight in once piece, and we will host that gala. It is too late to dawdle—what do you want me to tell all the women and men attending? That my seasoned ship captain was too scared to sail the coast?”

“No, sir,” the armored man looked down in defeat at his lord.

“Good then,” Baltsaros said, taking his seat in front of a desk at the other end of the cabin. “Get us there, Hali. Your job depends on it.”

The armored man bowed, then took his leave back through the door out on to the deck. Acacius heard him bark orders to the crewmen, and the ship began to move only a few minutes after. Baltsaros sat at his desk still, scribbling something on a page with a worn reed dipped in watery ink. “Is this your first time on the seas?” he asked as he scrawled, dipping the ink every now and again, though he never looked up at them.

“I’ve only sailed one other time,” Myrrhine said, “when my family married me to my husband and we ventured here together.”

“Ah, that’s nice, marriage. Me? I haven’t found a wife yet. Not me. I’m married to my work.” He continued writing for a minute, and then set the reed down and slid the papyrus to the side to dry.

“I can see,” Myrrhine looked around at the stacks and sacks of gold. “Must be fruitful, sir.”

Baltsaros relaxed I his chair. “Why do you call me sir?” His question caught Myrrhine off guard and she stuttered for an answer. “I don’t mean to lord over you, I am not your superior,” Baltsaros said. “The gods—some of them at least—preach kindness and generosity. So I try to be kind and generous. I expect nothing of you, only to help you find some relief from the stressors of life.”

“But I’m just a farmer.”

“And so? I’m just a merchant, the only difference is that I have more money. In fact, you likely own more land than I. What does your social standing have to do with a stranger’s kindness?”

Myrrhine stared at him a long moment, silent, chewing on her bottom lip. The salty air was still in the cabin as the ship began its southward trip along the coast. Baltsaros filled the silence, “I only wish to bring a light to your day, is all. Only people who work for me should call me ‘sir’.”

“I’m sorry, Mister Baltsaros,” Myrrhine said shook her head. “I am thankful for your kindness. Could you tell me what the gala tonight is honoring?”

“Why, myself, of course!” The great Baltsaros laughed a hardy laugh so great it was like the tumultuous roar of a great beast. “The wealthy have feasts and festivals just because they can. I want all my sailors, trade partners, and farmers to know how much fun I like to have.”

The conversation trailed off then, leaving the salty air still and silent with the rocking of the ship. Ereus blew from the unlucky east, battering the ship with strong waves and whistling winds that rocked them hard to-and-fro. Although the skies were clear, the wind was cold with the hint of fall, and it suddenly felt like Autumn had set in finally.