Ousanas’ laugh cut him off. The laugh, and the huge grin which followed. “Of course she doesn’t think that, Wahsi!”
The tall hunter beamed down at the short Roman woman. “She’s not going to appeal to their ‘reason,’ man. Just their greed.”
“Well spoken,” murmured Antonina. She smiled demurely at Wahsi. “I’m a genius, remember?”
* * *
It took hours, of course. Long into the night, negotiating with a small horde of Arab chieftains and subchieftains. Each little dhow had its own independent captain, and each of them had an opinion of his own. Four or five opinions, as often as not.
“We cannot board those great Malwa beasts,” snarled one of the village-notables-turned-pirate-captain. He spoke slowly, and emphatically, so that Antonina could follow him. Her command of Arabic was only middling. “The one time we tried—” He threw up his hands. “Butchered! Butchered! Only two ships came back.”
“Butchered, butchered,” rose the murmur from the crowd. The pavilion which Antonina had ordered erected on the beach was packed with Arab chieftains. All of them joined in the protest, like a Greek chorus.
Antonina responded with a grin, worthy of a bandit.
“That was my husband’s ship, I imagine.”
The statement brought instant silence. Seventeen pairs of beady eyes were examining her, like ferrets studying a hen. Except this hen had just announced that she was mated to a roc.
Antonina nodded toward Ousanas. The hunter was squatting out of the way, in a corner of the tent. He had been there since the Arabs first entered. After a glance, none of them had paid him any attention. The Roman woman’s slave, obviously; beneath their notice.
Ousanas grinned and rose lazily. The tall hunter reached behind him and drew forth his great stabbing spear. Then, hefting it easily, he began rattling off some quick sentences in fluent Arabic. Antonina could only follow some of it, but the gist was not hard to grasp.
Simple concepts, really. Yeah, that’s right, you mangy fucks. I was there too. (Here, two of the chieftains hissed and tried to edge their way back into the crowd. No translation was needed—they remembered Ousanas, clearly enough.) It was almost funny the way you pitiful amateur pirates scuttled over the sides—the few of you who still could, that is, after we gutted and beheaded and disemboweled and maimed and mangled and slaughtered—-
And so on, and so forth. Fortunately, Ousanas concluded on a happier note.
So let’s not hear any crap about what can and can’t be done. You couldn’t do it, for sure. But nobody’s asking you to. We’ll do the serious work. All you’ve got to do is haul away the spoils.
The fishermen/bandits had taken no offense at Ousanas’ grisly taunts. But they were deeply offended by his last statement.
Again, Antonina had no difficulty interpreting the gist of their hot-tempered remarks.
What? Do we look like fools? Why would you do all the dangerous work and let us take the loot? Snort, snort. Do you take us for idiots? Lies, lies.
Antonina decided to interject the voice of sweet, feminine reason.
“Nobody said you’d get all the loot, you stupid oafs. Do we look like fools, ourselves?” She pointed imperiously at the fleet of Ethiopian warships moored in the bay. The ships were quite visible in the moonlight, since the tent flaps had been pulled aside to allow the cooling breeze to enter.
“Those, you ignorant dolts, are what are called warships.” Snort, snort. “As different from your pitiful canoes as a lion from a sheep.” Sneer, sneer. “You do know what a sheep is, don’t you? You should. You’ve fucked them often enough, since you’re too ugly to seduce a woman and too clumsy to catch one.”
The Arabs laughed uproariously. Then, settling comfortably on their haunches, they readied for some serious bargaining. Clearly, the Roman was a woman they could do business with. A marvelous command of insult, even if her words were stumbling and prosaic. But allowances had to be made. Arabic was not her native tongue, after all.
Antonina clapped her hands, like a schoolteacher commanding the attention of stupid and unruly students. The Arabs grinned.
“The Axumite warships are quite capable of bringing down the Malwa vessels. The problem is—they’re fighting ships. Not much room, with all the soldiers, to carry off loot.” Her next words, Antonina spoke very slowly, so that imbeciles might be able to follow her simple reasoning.