G. Edmondson - The Ship that Sailed the Time Stream

She started down the narrow street and Howie, after she had hissed and pointed a couple of times, fell in behind as befitted a slave. The street was cobbled with uneven stones which threatened to sprain his ankle with every step. It was not over ten feet wide at best and upper floors extended until the street caught less than enough sunlight to dry the stinking mounds of rubbish and offal which collected beneath balconies.

The lower story was mostly open-front shops, selling weird things at whose use Howie could only guess. He muttered an unchristian word as his toe stubbed another cobble. Why hadn’t he brought his shoes?

Lillith was used to going barefoot but she fared little better. Abruptly she stopped before a display of sandals.

Moments later they had two pairs, and half of the copper coins were gone. A few doors farther they stopped again and Howie squatted for nearly an hour while Lillith tried on robes until she found one which showed off her sultry complexion to advantage.

In considerably less time she picked a himation.

Howie put it on but refused to remove his trousers.

Lillith, after some venomous asides, led the way again.

Howie’s denimclad legs attracted stares from those Athenians who had not yet seen everything. He struggled with the himation. Lillith was suddenly walking much faster. Eventually, he got the bulky garment bunched up around his waist, more or less as others seemed to wear it.

They left the docks and the fishy smell was gradually displaced by an all-pervading odor of onion, garlic, and the rancid stink of olive oil. When had he eaten last, Howie wondered. The smell grew stronger and he felt suddenly faint. Lillith stopped so abruptly that he bumped into her and Howie saw that one of the open-fronted shops had an immense soot-blackened cauldron in which oil smoked and little brown things sizzled.

The cook was a small, suspicious man with kinky black hair. His eyes became human only when Lillith extracted money from the hypnotized Howie’s pocket.

Then the little man grabbed chunks of dough and twirled them pizza fashion before dumping fried sausage and a handful of onion in the midst of each.

When each gob of dough was rolled back into a ball he dropped it in. Howie could not take his eyes from the cauldron. After an eternity of waiting for them to cool Howie and Lillith wandered on down the street, dodging porters, pack mules, and an occasional VlP’s litter.

They were leaving Piraeus now, starting the six mile walk up between the remains of the famous long walls.

Howie felt better since he had eaten. But with his stomach full, he became even more cognizant of how long it had been since he had last slept. Lillith had catnapped while he steered constantly. He looked wistfully for some place to sleep but every nook in the ruined walls was filled with lounging sailors, drovers, or bands of half-drunk students out picnicking.

Howie plodded behind, seething inwardly as students caught sight of Lillith and made loud remarks which required no translation.

Two miserable stumbling hours later they finished the uphill walk to Athens. Howie was so exhausted that he took no notice of the stoa through which they trudged, save that he was startled by the gaudily painted statue of a naked young man about to fling a plate at somebody. He had always thought statues were left in the natural white of marble.

Lillith stopped before a building which reeked of steam and oil. Well scrubbed men lounged before the building. Those downwind moved when Howie and Lillith sat down.

The silver coins were all gone and only a handful of copper oboloi remained. Howie wondered if there’d be enough for a room in whatever these foreigners had in the way of a hotel. He was going over his meager vocabulary, trying to find a way to ask Lillith, when he noticed a small, bright-eyed man studying them intently. Howie stared back. The little man’s chlamys fit better than most of the citizenry’s and was woven of finer material. Howie glanced at Lillith. She too had noticed the man’s glance. Jealous anger boiled through Howie at the suspicion that they had been communicating for some time.

Abruptly, he remembered he was pretending to be a slave. The sooner he got to Rome, the better, Howie decided. He didn’t think he was going to like Greeks.

The little man moved toward them. Lillith gave Howie a warning glance and he lapsed into immobility.

The conversation was long and repetitive, due to Lillith’s imperfect Greek, but eventually the little man produced a silver stater. Other loungers gathered to watch the bargaining and offer ribald comment Lillith extracted the last of the money from Howie’s pocket and spread it beside her. Pointing to coins and extending fingers, she indicated her price. Howie’s anger disappeared, overwhelmed by a numbing shock. He was seeing Lillith in her true light for the first time-peddling herself like a common— He couldn’t bring himself even to think the word.

The little man’s eyes burned more brightly. He licked his full red lips. Lillith, with a gesture of finality, picked up her coins and tossed them down the front of her dress. The little man knew when he was licked. He produced a handful of staters. Howie’s eyes bulged.

He knew how much they’d gotten for the caique and how far it had gone. But this—why, it must be ten times as much!

And she could make all this money just for— Lillith dumped the silver down the front of her dress. It was wrong, of course; she shouldn’t do it. But then, they did need money. And it would only take a little while.

He brightened as he reflected that he now had a steady source of income which could take them both to Rome. And since he was going to Rome for a good cause … Come to think of it, Jesus hadn’t hesitated to accept Mary Magdalene’s earnings.

Lillith pointed at the entrance of the building. He recognized the word for bath. Or was it wash? He’d have to make himself scarce anyway while Lillith performed her part of the bargain.

The bright-eyed little man propelled him toward the bath attendant. Howie let himself be led into the first chamber. The attendant took his clothes and left him to doze in drowsy, comforting steam. He woke abruptly from a dream of carnal delights to discover the attendant scraping him with a strigil—like a wooden curry-comb. After awhile he was propelled into the next room, a swimming pool full of warm water. He joined the men who squatted there and fell asleep.

The attendant fished him out and slapped his back till he was through coughing and choking, then led him into the next room. The attendant pushed him into the cold pool. By the time he had splashed his way to the other end he was wide awake. To his surprise, the bright-eyed little man was waiting for him. Howie looked for his clothes but the little man had him by the hand and was leading him to a curtained-off alcove.

Thirty seconds later the little man burst through the curtains immediately in front of Howie’s foot. “Jehovah smite thee!” Howie raged. “Isn’t the girl enough? Jesus rescue me from this den of iniquity!”

The little man stood at a safe distance, lower lip trembling as he stared at this berserk apparition.

A crowd gathered immediately. Hadn’t these Greeks anything to do but stare? One elderly man detached himself from the crowd and edged toward Howie.

“Didst say Jesus?” he asked.

Howie stared.

“Art thou Christian?” the old man continued. “Me-thought thy tongue rang haply of mine own.”

“Who are you?” Howie croaked.

“Alas,” the old man sighed, “once I was Brother Willibald of Glastonbury—until that Satan inspired Alchemist talked me into arming his copper coiled Alembic.” The old man sighed again. “The Abbey may now possess the Philosopher’s Stone and know all the Arts of transmuting Base Metals into Gold but alas—will Brother Willibald ever again drink the brown October Ale?”